CHAPTER 15
Anna
It was Saturday. A day that usually meant Connor's home would soon be filled with dozens of people enjoying good food and one another's company. Yet this particular cookout felt off before it even began.
Jaxon had texted earlier that he wouldn't be around, a first for him, according to Connor. Normally, he'd be here helping with food prep, setting up chairs, doing all the things that made these events run smoothly.
Instead, I stood at the kitchen counter, prepping meat for the grill just as I had seen Jaxon do it before.
My hands moved automatically—season, turn, repeat—but a quiet unease threaded through every motion.
I was standing where he had stood, filling a space that somehow felt too big for me.
Jaxon had a way of making everything look effortless, even the simplest tasks.
I worried I'd fall short of that without meaning to.
Not that it matters, I told myself, trying to shake off the thought. He's not even going to be here.
Connor moved through the house setting up, but something was missing.
The usual lightness in his movements was gone.
He worked in near silence, his face drawn, his energy taut with worry.
When he passed through the kitchen, it was only to give me a brief, grim nod before heading back outside.
His mind was clearly somewhere else. On Jaxon, most likely.
Mine was too.
The front door creaked open, and Denny stepped inside.
His expression mirrored Connor's—somber, subdued.
He offered me a faint smile before grabbing a few trays of meat to take outside.
Even without words, it was obvious he knew about Jared's visit.
The weight of it hung over the house, heavy and inescapable, dimming the easy warmth that usually came with these cookouts.
Once Denny joined Connor outside, I decided to head upstairs to clean up and get dressed for the evening.
My feet sank into the plush carpet as I crossed my room, catching sight of my phone on the dresser.
I grabbed it, hoping for a message from Jaxon, something saying he'd changed his mind, that he was coming after all, even if he was running late.
Nothing. No new notifications.
I sighed and typed out a message.
[Me]: Are you sure you won't come tonight?
I held the phone in my hand, biting my thumbnail as I waited to see if he'd start typing a response. The screen remained blank. No three dots. No sign of life from Jaxon.
Great.
I set the phone down and stepped into the shower, hoping the hot water might wash away some of the anxiety gnawing at my chest. It didn’t.
When I finished, I stood in front of my closet, contemplating what to wear.
I thumbed through hangers until I landed on a pocketed blue sundress that brought out my eyes.
As I checked myself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric, I realized I was dressing up with the hope that Jaxon might still show up.
The thought made me frown.
Why does his absence bother me so much? And why am I dressing up hoping he'll see me? I didn’t care what I looked like, not for him.
I grabbed my phone again and checked for a reply—just in case.
Still nothing.
Just let it go, Anna.
With a sigh, I slipped the phone into my pocket and left my room.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I stopped abruptly.
Below me, Harper and Connor stood at the bottom, locked in what looked like a heated discussion.
Connor's stance was tense, his head angled down toward Harper as he spoke with clear intensity.
Harper's expression shifted between anger, hurt, and confusion.
Oh no.
Unsure whether I should intervene, I took a step back, letting the shadows of the hallway cloak me from view.
Harper reached for Connor's arm, as if trying to calm him, but he shrugged her off brusquely and turned, heading toward the kitchen.
The loud clang of the sliding door as he stepped outside echoed through the quiet house.
Harper stood there for a moment, her shoulders slumping. She pinched the bridge of her nose and glanced up at the ceiling, like she was searching for strength, or patience. After a deep sigh, she turned and walked down the hallway toward the bathroom.
Guilt twisted in my stomach for having witnessed their argument, even though I hadn't meant to eavesdrop. Whatever had just happened had clearly rattled them both. I hesitated, torn between checking on Harper or leaving them to sort it out alone.
I made my decision.
My steps were measured and cautious as I approached the closed bathroom door. The muffled sounds of movement from within made me pause, my hand hovering inches from the wood.
With a deep breath, I gently rapped my knuckles against it.
"Harper?"
The rustling inside stopped. A moment later, the lock clicked, and the door slowly swung open.
Harper stood there, eyes rimmed with red, a valiant attempt at a smile plastered on her face. But I could see right through it. The pain and frustration etched into the lines around her mouth, the tightness in her shoulders.
"What happened?" I asked gently, stepping closer and resting a hand on her arm.
She slumped against the counter, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.
"Connor and I got into a fight about Morgan," she admitted, her voice rough with emotion. "She didn't come tonight, even though she knows he's stressed and could use her support. I tried to tell him it's because she doesn't really care about him, but he wouldn't listen."
A tear escaped, and she wiped at it angrily, pressing her fingers to her closed lids.
"I just don't understand how he can keep defending her!
" She burst out, disbelief and exasperation woven into her voice.
"He deserves so much better than someone who doesn't give a damn about him.
I thought he was smarter than this, that he knew his worth and could see through people's true intentions. "
My heart ached for her. I gently squeezed her shoulder, offering silent support.
"I'm sorry," I murmured.
Connor's easygoing nature and infectious charm were well-known, but Morgan's conspicuous absence, and Harper's fears about her intentions, rang painfully true.
"Maybe he just doesn't see it yet," I offered softly. "Sometimes people can be blinded by the hope that someone's good, even when all the signs say otherwise."
God, how I wish someone had given me that advice last year.
Harper sighed heavily, her hands falling to her sides as she met my gaze with tired eyes.
"I just don't get why he's defending her when she can't even be bothered to show up, especially when he's obviously stressed about Jaxon." She shook her head, frustration evident in the set of her jaw. "It's like he's clinging to an illusion, refusing to see the truth."
I nodded slowly.
"Maybe it's because he cares about her, and letting go of that hope is harder than it seems. But you're right—he does deserve someone who will stand by him when he needs it most."
Harper's eyes welled up again, and she hastily wiped at the fresh tears.
"Yeah, but he's never going to see it if he keeps making excuses for her," she muttered, annoyance sharpening her tone. "And I'm left feeling like I'm beating my head against a brick wall trying to get through to him."
"That sounds exhausting," I replied, empathy softening my voice. "But maybe he just needs time. He'll come around eventually. Especially when he realizes you're only trying to look out for him."
A glimmer of hope flickered in Harper's eyes as she nodded.
"Yeah, maybe," she conceded, her voice a bit lighter. "It's just hard, you know? Connor's been my friend for so long, and seeing him make the wrong choices hurts."
I offered a reassuring smile.
"It's because you care about him. That's what friends do—they look out for each other."
Harper's breath hitched, her next words barely above a whisper.
"I do care about him."
The depth of emotion in her eyes was unmistakable, a softness and longing that hinted at feelings far deeper than friendship.
Oh no.
"Have you told him how you really feel?" I asked gently.
Harper's reaction was instantaneous. Her eyes widened in panic, and she practically shrieked,
"What?! We're just friends, that's it!"
Her hands fluttered nervously at the hem of her shirt, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles as she turned toward the mirror, avoiding my knowing gaze.
Before I could respond, she hurried out of the bathroom, making a beeline for the kitchen.
I sighed, letting her have a moment to collect herself before following at a more sedate pace.
As we stepped out onto the porch, the warm evening air enveloped us, carrying the sound of laughter from the group gathered around the fire pit.
Connor's employees—Mark, Paul, and Felix—sat clustered together, trading stories and jokes over cold beers.
Harper and I each grabbed a bottle from the nearby cooler and claimed seats on the opposite side of the crackling flames.
I couldn't help but notice the tension emanating from Connor at the grill.
His eyes were fixed on Harper, his gaze stern and unyielding, even as he cleared the last of the food onto the serving table.
Harper, for her part, seemed determined to ignore his scrutiny, engaging instead in light banter with Felix.
Felix, with his short, styled black hair and piercing blue eyes, exuded confidence.
His full-sleeve tattoos on both arms hinted at a rebellious streak, contrasting with his easy smile and relaxed demeanor.
He leaned casually against a nearby table, and as he bantered back and forth with Harper, there was a playful glint in his eyes.
But I saw the subtle shift in Connor's expression, the way his brows furrowed, the way his stern gaze morphed into a full-on glare directed at Felix.
Oh, this is getting interesting. The intensity of his reaction was telling, hinting at feelings that went beyond mere concern for a friend.